My legs tell an interesting story of this summer.
First of all, they tell the story of the first day I wore my favorite new shoes. (I know, the shoe thing again.) On that day, I walked across the street from my office building to get lunch. On the way back, I picked up a couple of chiggers (aka “red bugs”) while cutting through a landscaped area of our parking lot. They’ve marked my legs with red scars the entire summer. I figure the cute shoes distract from the chigger damage.
My legs also tell the story of a one-day beach trip with two of my children. It was a perfect day, really. Except for my sunblock application. That wasn’t so perfect. And I have three very odd areas of tan (previously sunburn) on both legs. I laugh every time I see it. Eventually, this one will fade into even whiteness.
An inch-and-a-half “strawberry” under my left knee tells the latest leg scar story. This one will leave a scar for a long time – maybe forever. On the night before my week-long vacation, I woke up disoriented by the alarm on my dryer, stuck in a loud, consistent buzz. In my haste to turn the buzzer off, and forgetting that an open, fully packed suitcase was beside my bed, I tripped and took quite a fall. Based on my injuries, it was spectacular. No one saw it, not even me. It was dark and I was practically asleep. I asked my son, who was sleeping downstairs, if he remembered hearing all the commotion. He didn’t, and I was relieved. I don’t want him to learn those words from me.
I have several other scars that remind me of past injuries. Most of us do. Sometimes, a scar can remind me of more – like the dinner I was cooking, or the special occasion when I burned the back of my hand – but, most often, I don’t remember anything beyond the actual injury.
What a waste of a good scar!
Our scars represent a lot more than skin damage. Sometimes, they tell of an amazing slide into home base that helped your team win a big game. Or, a scar might be all that remains of a health scare that resolved as a complete healing. Sometimes, scars remind us of lessons learned.
Sometimes, like the risen Jesus, our scars help identify us – not based on the injuries they represent, but based on the story of healing they tell.
Do you have a scar story you’d be willing to share? A scar that is particularly important to you? I’d love to hear what your scars say about you.
Finding a new "normal" 